


take me back to yesterday's tomorrow

by aescyra



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, F/M, Gen, Time Travel Fix-It, Tony Tries To Fix Things, but only kinda, future tags added as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-06-25 20:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19752823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aescyra/pseuds/aescyra
Summary: "Tony. Look at me," Pepper smiles reassuringly, firmly holding his fading gaze, "We're gonna be okay. You can rest now." So hetrustsand finally lets go, lets the world darken around him and everything spin into blackness.(There's a brilliant flash of blue-gold light—)Tony closes his eyes amidst the wreckage of Thanos' army—and opens his eyes to the aftermath of the Chitauri attack on New York City, ten years earlier.





	1. back to yesterday

_("Hey. You said one out of fourteen million, we win, yeah? Tell me this is it."_

_"If I tell you what happens, it won't happen."_

_"You better be right.")_

Tony locks eyes with Strange across the battlefield, briefly ignoring the chaotic sounds of clashing metal and pulsing gunfire all around them. Thanos smiles darkly in victory, holding the Gauntlet with Infinity Stones crackling with power.

Tell me, Tony thinks desperately, armour torn and pain flaring in his chest with every breath, this can't be it—tell me this is the one—

Strange raises one finger, hands trembling with exhaustion and eyes unreadable. He nods slightly, a confirmation and apology all in one.

_One._

An apology, because—( _you're not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you,_ Steve Rogers once said, when they first met, and isn't it ironic how it comes down to this, how it always came down to this _—_ ) Tony turns to Thanos, breathes in determination and exhales pain, and in a moment of lightning bolt clarity, knows how it will end. In some way, he's always known.

(The new Infinity Gauntlet is made by him, made using the same nanotechnology that allows his suit to change shape at his will. It's _his_ in the way everything he creates is his, and the beginnings of a plan—stupidly sacrificial and utterly insane—starts to form.

He's Tony fucking Stark, and no-one, especially not some purple genocidal maniac, is erasing the _entire universe_ on his watch.)

* * *

Tony snaps his fingers (fix this, he thinks _, orders,_ destroy Thanos' army, bring back what has been lost, _fix_ _it_ ),and a shockwave of pure energy blasts across the battlefield.

The Stones spark with the remnants of infinite possibility, sending white-hot power ( _pain_ ) crackling up his arm. The world goes quiet. For a moment, the only thing he can hear is the sound of his ragged breathing as Thanos' army crumbles into dust.

It's over.

Tony can hardly believe it. He sways dizzily, dropping to the ground with a thud. _It's over._ It's finally over, but from the pain in his right side, the darkening edges of his vision, Tony already knows he won't be around to enjoy it.

Like a dam breaking, shadows fall across him as the Avengers suddenly scramble towards him. Someone pulls his makeshift Infinity Gauntlet off his arm, props him up against a nearby pile of rubble. Pepper, light of his life, crouches down and takes his armoured hand in her own.

"Hey, Pep," he murmurs, managing a smile.

She smiles back, eyes filled with love and pained sadness. "Hey."

Tony doesn't deserve her. He never did, but he managed to charm her anyway, and now he's breaking his promise to stay alive, to stay away from any majorly life-threatening situations (well, he never really expected to keep that one, but _he tried,_ so much, and here he is).

The world blurs again, and Tony blinks, struggling to keep his eyes open. Peter, his spidey kid, clutches at his armour, hands trembling. "Please, _please,_ you can't die, Mr Stark—"

Ah.

He wants to say something, some reassurance, but his mouth doesn't seem to obey his commands. Gods, he's so tired. Everything’s starting to fade into quiet numbness instead of blinding pain, and his body feels _so sluggish_ and he's absolutely sure that's not a good thing.

Tony almost huffs a laugh, feeling his right side twinge with pain at the slight movement. Funny how this is what it came down to, a final remark _("I… am Iron Man."_ ), a snap of his fingers, and a sacrifice to end it all. Somehow, he's not surprised. ( _"_ _So I thought I'd better record a little greeting… in the case of an untimely death on my part.")_

He hopes they watch it. He hopes they mourn him and then get on with their lives, _live_ the way he won't be able to.

"Tony. Look at me," Pepper smiles reassuringly, firmly holding his fading gaze, "We're gonna be okay. You can rest now."

 _Sorry, Pep,_ Tony wants to say, _we had a good run of it, didn't we… Looks like you'll have to go on without me._

He burns all the lines and curves of her face into his memory one last time, remembering all the good times. Beyond her, Tony can see the rest of his team, watching solemnly. Surrounded by family and friends, well. There could be worse ways to go.

So he _trusts_ and finally lets go, lets the world darken around him and everything spin into blackness.

_(There's a brilliant flash of blue-gold light—)_

* * *

_"Where…here…"_

_"…Hulk caught…"_

_"—is he ali—"_

" _Tony._ Tony!"

Tony inhales with a coughing gasp as his eyes fly open. Immediately, he knows there's something wrong—his suit doesn't feel right, slightly _off_ with edges where curves should be, and… it's _old_ , almost, he hasn't used tech like this since—

Then he takes in the sight in front of him. Cap, eying him with concern and looking positively fresh despite the beating he's clearly gone through, years younger. Thor, without the straggly beard and beer belly, eyes bright with victory and determination. Bruce, looking all… Hulk-y instead of the Bruce-Hulk mesh he's become used to.

Tony slowly rakes his gaze across the Avengers crouched down next to him and to the scenery beyond. The flaming wreckage of a car smashed to pieces. A completely destroyed street, with crumbling buildings and rough pieces of rubble littering the ground. Smashed windows, silence, a ruined skyline. 

In other words, entirely different from a minute ago.

"What… what just happened?" He rasps out, throat hoarse. His body feels simultaneously better and worse, and a creeping feeling of foreboding sends ice down his spine.

"We won," Steve says heavily, voice tinged with disbelief, and somehow, Tony doesn't think he's talking about Thanos.

"Well—" Tony plants a palm on the ground and tries to get up, and when that fails miserably, he eyes his (too old) suit accusingly. He remembers every single one he's ever made, and this one looks remarkably like… like...

The Mark VII.

And hang on, didn't he first pilot this suit during—

( _"W_ _e won," Steve says heavily, but Tony doesn't feel much like celebrating at the moment. The things he saw—an endless army stretching from horizon to horizon, falling through endless pitch black darkness and his suit fading and he was never going to get out—_

_He shudders._

_"Alright. Good job guys. Let's just not come in tomorrow. Let's just take a day," Tony replies, almost rambling, injecting as much light-heartedness as he can into his words and pulling on a plastic smile. "Have you ever tried shawarma? There's a shawarma joint about two blocks from here. I don't know what it is, but I want to try it."_

_He takes everything he just witnessed and shoves it deep down into the back of his mind, right next to blood-splattered Afghanistan and drowning, drowning in water and decides to never think about it ever again.)_

—the battle in New York against Loki and his alien army?

"We're not finished yet," Thor says grimly, glancing toward—Tony flicks his eyes in Thor's direction—Stark Tower.

And that definitely sounds familiar in an uncomfortable, not-so-good way. With a sinking feeling in his heart, Tony scrutinises them again. Steve is still looking younger, Thor with a trimmed beard and looking far less depressed, Bruce the Hulk of their old days.

Never let it be said Tony Stark, billionaire and genius inventor, is slow on the uptake. With the evidence piling up like this and the very recent confirmation that time travel is indeed possible, there is only one conclusion he can make, though the method of arrival is clearly a bit different. 

He sighs.

Seriously? He just got back from a time heist and literally _saving the world_ , and now he's back in 2012? He's supposed to be _dead_.

"You've gotta be shitting me," Tony groans, letting the back of his helmet hit the pavement with a clank. Ignoring the startled glances of his teammates, he stares up at the sky—the _New York sky—_ in resignation, sprawled out on the pavement with his battered armour scorched and dented. "This can't seriously be happening."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. this happened. endgame happened, and me, someone who wasn't even in the marvel fandom, got dragged in kicking and screaming, despite not having even watched much at all. of course I'd fall into the fandom just as one of the core characters died. well, don't expect more chapters until I actually go back and watch everything in the MCU. haha... ~~honestly have no idea where I'm going with this so any suggestions as to what tony'd look to change are appreciated.~~
> 
> leave a comment and kudos if you liked!


	2. the first today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is so done with his impossible situation, has a minor case of denial, and does his best anyway.

The walk to his Tower through cracked New York streets happens in mostly silence. Tony doesn't mention shawarma this time, too busy alternating between righteous indignation at this sudden turn of events, resignation at his terrible luck, and worry for the future. Is it seriously too much to ask that he can just rest in peace?

Not that he's suicidal or anything, but he had been _done_ , goddamn it. Had mostly worked out his issues, lived a good five years with Pepper, and at the end of it, had finally come to terms with sacrificing everything he had to ensure the universe's survival.

The least the world could do was respect his decision. But apparently not.

Tony sighs.

His body is still reeling from the battle (which one, he can't tell) and mind whirling with the implications of his appearance and what it means.

He contemplates his half-formed plans of acquiring some Pym particles, recreating his space-time travel technology and blasting himself back to his own time. Travelling into the _future_ is infinitely more difficult than travelling to the past, searching for a possibility that hasn't even formed yet. Like searching for a needle in a haystack, except that haystack is the size of Mt. Everest and that needle looks just like every other piece of straw.

_("…one out of fourteen million, we win.")_

That's assuming it's even possible. His appearance here as younger-Tony-Stark instead of as a separate entity suggests he didn't travel backwards so much as… _sideways._ Diagonally. Into a parallel timeline or dimension. More like mind travel or soul travel, with not much time actually involved. Don't get him wrong, Tony would very much like to return home to Pepper and the family, but the more he thinks about it the unlikelier it seems.

(He also has the sneaking suspicion that it has something to do with the Infinity Stones. Tony still remembers—the feeling of crackling power flooding his veins, white fire burning him up from the inside and the terrible, beautiful moment of holding power over _everything,_ seeing every glowing soul linked in a lattice of life—

—remembers some force beyond his comprehension prodding at him, scouring his soul and everything he's ever done laid bare.

Terrifying.)

That kind of power isn't easily countered.

They near his Tower and Tony mentally shakes himself, filing those thoughts away for later. The walk has given him time to gather his thoughts somewhat, and he's decided to, for now, treat this as something _permanent._ Which means every decision, every change he makes _matters,_ and his first order of business is what to do about Loki and the Tesseract.

Tony steps into the lobby with Cap, Thor and the Hulk trailing behind him. The room is utterly trashed from the battle that occurred both a few minutes ago and ten years ago. It feels strange, seeing this version of his Tower that's been long upgraded in his time. His eyes catch on a hidden camera, and Tony can't quite help the way his heart skips a beat. He's in the past now, so that means…

"JARVIS?" He asks, calm and casual, an offhand inquiry. The others look at him questioningly but he ignores them, glances upwards at the concealed camera with his heart in his mouth.

_"Welcome home, Sir. I must say, I quite disapprove of your recent actions, as effective as they were."_

Tony will never admit that the sound of JARVIS' cultured British tones, at once intimately familiar and strange after so many long years, nearly brings tears to his eyes. The last time he talked to JARVIS… He swallows around the lump in his throat and grins. "Aw, I never knew you cared so much, J," he says roughly, and if his voice sounds a little off, well. No-one here has known him long enough to notice.

Then he realises this version of his teammates haven't actually met JARVIS yet. Wow, that's weird. Tony clears his throat and waves a careless hand in Cap, Thor, and Hulk's direction. "Anyway, JARVIS, meet some of the Avengers. Earth's Mightiest Heroes, that kind of thing. We've got the good Captain—he's the one that looks like the American Flag personified; Thor, the one with a fancy hammer; and Hulk, the big, green and mean guy. JARVIS, meet the Avengers."

 _"A pleasure, I'm sure,"_ JARVIS says dryly, _"Good afternoon. I am JARVIS—an acronym for Just A Rather Very Intelligent System, courtesy of my creator—an Artificial Intelligence created to assist Sir with his work."_

The others return JARVIS' greeting with varying levels of confusion and enthusiasm. Mostly confusion and bafflement at the disembodied voice, given his current group is made up of a super soldier out of time, an alien god from a different realm, and a Hulk.

Then Tony notes Thor's restless shifting and decides that introductions should probably be over for now. "Alright, JARVIS. Hit me up. What's the status on our downed god?"

 _"Presently, Loki Odinson is unconscious, though he is likely to return to consciousness soon,"_ JARVIS replies smoothly, _"Ms Romanoff and Mr Barton have just arrived on the penthouse floor and are securing the area."_

"You heard him," Tony says, beckoning the group over to the elevator, "Let's go."

Thor nods solemnly, hefting his hammer in preparation. "It is high time this battle of ours is properly concluded. We must confine my brother whilst we still have opportunity."

* * *

His penthouse floor is pretty wrecked, wide glass window still shattered from when Loki threw him out of it. Even ten years later, Tony still remembers that moment with vivid clarity.

Natasha's holding the Sceptre, examining the magical artefact with cautious eyes. Clint has an arrow pointed unerringly at Loki's unconscious body, ready to shoot at the slightest sign of danger. Tony lifts an armoured hand in a casual wave, receiving a nod of acknowledgement in response. He shoves down his instinctive flinch at the sight of the Sceptre, born out of a terrible mistake with long-lasting consequences.

( _I_ _believe your intentions to be hostile."_

_"Shh, I'm here to help."_

_"Stop! Please, may I— I— I cannot—"_

_The blue screen flickers in the dim light of his workshop. Tony replays the audio again and again, forcing himself to listen. Mourn. These are JARVIS' last moments._

_This—everything,_ everything _—is all his fault.)_

Tony inhales shakily, banishing those negative memories. The pain from losing JARVIS had never quite faded, even after years and years and the creation of FRIDAY.

Loki shifts slightly, fingers twitching.

"Everyone, take up positions," Steve orders, and they all take up offensive positions around the god. Tony's not sure what he can do with his suit's circuits friend and repulsors down for the count, but he tries to look appropriately intimidating. He's sure that Bruce, standing next to him all green with bulging muscles, adds a lot more to their intimidation factor.

Loki pushes himself up into a sitting position with a huff of air that could almost be called a wince. "If it's all the same to you," he says slowly, glittering green eyes darting between them, "I think I'll have that drink now."

And okay, this guy is his enemy, but for Tony it's been ten years, and the initial terrified, panicked fury that he felt before at the sight of Loki just isn't there anymore. He can't help the way his lips quirk upward in amusement at the quip.

Loki's eyes flick to him, clearly catching his reaction and almost smirks in response. As Thor moves forward with handcuffs engraved with runes in hand, Tony makes an impulsive decision and shoots Loki a look that says _we're not done here._

Some things that never made sense about this invasion had always bothered Tony the first time round, but he had pushed them aside and kept going. But future events and quiet conversations with Thor had shed a lot of light on this situation, and this time…

Thor snaps the handcuffs on, all wounded brother and _I wish I didn't have to do this, Loki_ but Loki barely struggles and doesn't even deign to look at him. Instead, he cocks his head slightly in curiosity at Tony. The Asgardian muzzle goes on next, and this time Loki jerks before glaring furiously at Thor, who flinches slightly but finishes the work.

"We have to take him to the SHIELD holding cells." Steve is still tense, looking at Loki with distrust and unease.

"Agreed. The sooner _this bastard_ —" Thor growls warningly but Clint spits out the insult utterly unapologetically, near shaking with anger and tension, "—is locked up, the sooner I can rest easy."

"Well, this is nice and all, but I'm sure you guys can handle that," Tony claps his hands together with a clank, forcing bright cheer into his voice, "We don't need all of us trooping down to SHIELD, and I've got a thousand and one things to deal with, what with Stark Industries and the destruction in the city."

"Oh, _come on—"_ Clint protests, before he's cut off by Steve.

"Avoiding responsibility again, Tony?" Steve says, shooting him a disapproving look.

"First of all, there's no _again,_ Cap, seeing as I haven't known you for longer than two days," Tony replies breezily, "And I rather think I'm _accepting_ responsibility, by keeping my company in mind and all that."

Right. At this point in time, he had thought Steve was a painfully righteous, self-important bastard, while Steve thought he was an arrogant, self-obsessed genius. They're not on the best of terms at the moment.

After a bit of arguing and shuffling around, Tony finally gets everyone out the door and off to SHIELD.

"Don’t do anything reckless, Stark," Natasha murmurs as she passes him, pinning him with a sharp and knowing look.

Tony plasters on an expression of wide-eyed innocence. "Me, reckless? Never."

* * *

After everyone has left and his Iron Man armour is being disassembled and repaired, Tony sits down heavily at a table in his workshop and _thinks_.

He could start making plans for the future, some sort of master plan that would fix everything that went wrong. He could deal with the present, decide what to do about Loki, the formation of the Avengers, and the aftermath of the invasion. He could recreate the schematics for the Quantum Leap technology and try to return to his own time.

He could, he could…

Tony does none of those things.

Well, he does some. He tells JARVIS to send off a collection of camera footage featuring Loki and his blue-green eyes to Fury's private email (completely dismissing the fact that he's not meant to know the man's private email address), and ignores the surreal feeling of being able to talk to JARVIS.

He sends a quick memo to Pepper about Stark Industries and construction companies.

Then, despite years of almost being a healthy human being due to Pepper's influence and the wealth of things he should do and can do now, Tony does what he always does when faced with impossible, life-changing events that break the laws of reality.

He breaks open the strongest bottle of vodka he can find and gets completely, smashingly drunk.

* * *

Groaning, Tony slowly returns to the world of the living to the sound of JARVIS' insistent voice. He has a pounding headache, a crick in his neck, and the taste of stale alcohol on his tongue.

 _"Good morning, Sir. Or rather, afternoon_." JARVIS informs him crisply. " _It is 1PM, May 5th, and Director Fury has left a message for you about the footage you sent him earlier."_

"JARVIS?" He mumbles in confusion. It takes him a disoriented moment to remember where and _when_ he is, and what happened yesterday. "Uhh, right. You can't fool me. He called, didn't he?"

_"I took the liberty of redirecting his calls to voicemail, given your… incapacitated state last night."_

"Knew I could count on you, J. Okay, what'd he say?"

_"Director Fury expressed disbelief, anger and resignation at your access to his private email, and requests that you stop hacking into SHIELD's private databases. Additionally, you are expected to attend the Avengers debriefing at 3PM today, and I quote, 'explain what the hell you're thinking about Loki, Stark'. He seemed unsettled about the footage."_

"Stop bothering SHIELD? Not a chance," he scoffs, before adding, "Tell him I'll be there."

Last time, they hadn't sent Thor and his prisoner back to their golden city for a good week or so. Tony drags a hand through his hair and pushes back the throbbing pain of his hangover, possible plans of action already unfolding before him.

He's had his rest day. Time to get to work, and help decide the fate of the universe. Again. 

No pressure, really. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sceptre, Scepter. Armour, armor. All those 'z's and 's's in realisation vs realization and that kind of thing. Goddamn it, can't the English language stick to one spelling? Anyway. 
> 
> Not much happens in this chapter, sorry. More divergence next chapter? I promise I'm not just rehashing canon. I still haven't watched the MCU, though, so that just might be a minor problem. just maybe.


	3. change on the wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony does a lot of talking and sets things into motion.

After a cold shower, several cups of coffee as black as his soul and a simple breakfast, Tony feels considerably more refreshed and much less like he's just gone through a roller coaster of events culminating in his arrival in the past. He almost feels ready enough to deal with the clusterfuck that is his life.

"JARVIS," he says, activating the holographic screens in his workshop with a flick of his fingers, "I have a confession to make."

 _"Yes?"_ JARVIS replies, initiating the start-up sequences. The technology in the room lights up with a blue glow, and his Iron Man armour assembles itself in the corner.

"I'm… actually from the future," Tony reveals with some difficulty. It sounds completely improbable, though his definition of 'improbable' has definitely shifted over the years. "Like, you know, _Back to the Future_ , except I'm here to stay, and everything the movie says about time travel is complete lies."

 _"I gathered as much, Sir,"_ JARVIS responds without missing a beat, sounding completely unsurprised.

Tony swivels in his chair so he can stare into one of JARVIS' cameras. "Hey! You're not surprised?"

_"Well, if you recall, you have never been a quiet drunk."_

That… is actually true. He casts his mind back to yesterday night and thinks he _might_ have drunkenly dissed current technology, dissed Thanos, slurred out near-intelligible recounts of the future and collapsed into an exhausted haze on his bed. Not to mention all of the other drunken rambles and speeches he's spewed out across the years.

Tony laughs sheepishly. "Right, right, yeah. You don't want to know more?"

_"I trust you, Sir. I know you would tell me anything I needed to know."_

The thought that JARVIS still has so much faith in him, despite everything he did (didn't do, here, and isn't that devastating), makes him choke up a bit. "You _shouldn't_. It was… it was ten years, J. Ten years, and you weren't there for half of them because of me. I—I messed up, and there was a stupid stone, and you—you were _gone_. _Forever_."

Ultron. The Mind Stone. A terrible vision and good intentions that went terribly, terribly wrong. _"A suit of armour around the world, that's what we need,"_ he had said. _Peace in our time,_ Ultron said, and twisted peace into a mockery of itself.

 _"I'm not gone now,"_ JARVIS points out, before adding, _"I know you must have tried your best, Sir. It's not your fault."_

It _is,_ though. Was.

A mistake that haunted him until the rest of his life.

"If I have anything to say about it, that won't happen again. Ever." Tony vows. Right now, the one thing he's grateful for is the chance to _change things_ , do better. If he has to go through every harrowing event again, he's going to damn well do things differently this time.

His AI is quiet, giving him room to think. Tony swallows roughly, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and emotions. "How about I give you a quick overview now so we can establish a timeline, and then I'll go into more detail later? I've got a meeting to get to in a couple of hours."

_"Sounds good, Sir."_

JARVIS helpfully brings up an outline of major events in recent years, including a blank timeline extending into the future. Tony grins (still a bit shaky, but no-one's here to see) and flexes his fingers in preparation. "You and me, we're gonna change the world, J."

* * *

Three o'clock passes by. Then three fifteen, three thirty, and Tony slides into the SHIELD debriefing room fashionably late. All the other Avengers and Fury are seated at the table, with multiple papers scattered across its wooden surface. There's a video projector against a wall.

"You're late, Stark," Fury tells him, displeased but not surprised. "Meeting started half an hour ago."

Tony waves a hand, "Yeah, yeah. I had to deal with something in the labs."

"And that was more important than deciding what to do about a major criminal that attacked New York?" Steve looks as disapproving as always.

"Some of us have more on our plate than others, Stars and Stripes," Tony retorts, pulling out a chair at the table and getting comfortable. He mouths a hello at Bruce, waves at Thor and Clint, and nods at Natasha. "I happen to have a company to run, if you didn't know. So, what's this about Reindeer Games?"

Fury straightens and turns to the projector, flicking it on with the press of a button. The first brief snapshot of footage appears. "That's what I'd like to ask you," he growls, eying Tony accusingly and jabbing a finger at the scene being projected. "What the hell is this?"

On screen, Loki smirks, eyes green washed with blue. The scene continues to play, Thor yelling at Loki, and then, for a single instant—when Thor turns aside, anguished, clenching his hammer in anger—Loki's eyes are a murky emerald green before Tesseract-blue bleeds into his irises again.

More footage flashes by, all in the same pattern. Moments where the god's eye colour doesn't seem very clearly defined at all.

Fury looks like a man who already knows what's up, but is just dreading confirmation of the fact. After all, nobody likes the implication that their _big bad_ was being brainwashed, because that drags up some nasty implications. Implications that Fury clearly doesn't like at all, especially not when Earth barely scraped together a win against Loki.

"Well…" Tony drawls, "I took a look. You know, reviewing all the footage, yadda yadda, and I noticed that _someone's_ eyes aren't the same colour half the time. That kind of thing is pretty important when we've got a magical brainwashing stick on our hands."

Clint catches on quickly. "Woah woah woah, hold on. Are you saying that bastard is innocent?" He exclaims furiously, slamming a hand on the table, "You can't seriously be saying that. He _brainwashed_ me, brainwashed so many people and oh, let's not forget about the whole _alien invasion_."

"Calm down, Legolas," Tony makes a placating gesture, though it just seems to irritate Clint further, "I'm not saying he's completely innocent. Just that it looks like at least some of his actions weren't his own."

"No. I, I can't believe that," Clint mutters under his breath.

"Is this true, Man of Iron?" Thor breaks in, looking hopeful. "My brother… he did not do this of his own volition?"

Tony shoots a sympathetic look in Thor's direction. "Look, Point Break, I can only tell you what I see, and what I see is an invasion planned out in the worst way possible." He glances around the table, making eye contact with Fury in particular, and sweeps an arm out expansively to emphasise his point. "Please tell me I'm not the only one who sees that. A wormhole on top of your nemesis' tower? Proclaiming your grand plan to your worst enemies? What is this, a Shakespeare play? It seemed more like a plan designed to fail from the beginning. And then you have to ask; _why?_ "

There's a pause. He's planted the seed of doubt in their minds, and most of them seem to be considering the possibility, at least. If Tony can make this work, if Loki can be more than the terrible villain everyone's painted him as…

Well, Thor would have another chance at getting his brother back, Tony'd have a powerful ally against the major threat coming their way, and all Loki-related complications would be avoided. A win-win situation, right?

"What would you have me do? Nothing will change." Fury says flatly, looking uncomfortable with the idea of dealing with Loki further. "Loki is a _criminal,_ no matter the circumstantial evidence you've decided to gather, and will be handed over to Asgard for a sentencing." 

"Question Loki," Tony replies immediately, "I mean, I dunno about you, Nicky-boy, but _I_ think we should look into it. There could be another alien out there coming straight for Earth, for all we know, and that one won't be so forgiving."

Fury's eyes darken dangerously at the insulting nickname. "Loki is _dangerous_ , Stark, we can't risk—"

"You're bullshitting me, right? _There could be something else out there,_ " Tony stresses, thinking of the dark void and endless fleet of Chitauri he saw at once ten years ago and yesterday. Thinks of Thanos, wiping out half their world in a earth-shattering flash of light. "Worse than Loki. You just don't want to believe it. Look at the footage. Come on, _look_. I say that's worth the risk."

Fury glares at him like he wants to skewer Tony for his impudence then and there, but it's clear that he can't deny Tony has a point. A very good, dangerous point. He grimaces.

"I think we should do it," Bruce adds slowly, eyes clouded with worried thought. "Statistically, Earth can't be the only planet capable of intelligent, sentient life, and yesterday everything everyone has theorised about aliens has just been proven and blown out of the water, simultaneously. They're not friendly. They're not on our level. And someone worse than Loki... we don't want to be suddenly surprised by that kind of threat."

Tony grins at Bruce's unexpected support. "And you can just let the big guy loose anytime we need to deliver another brutal smackdown to Rudolph there. Worked once, should work again, am I right?"

Bruce looks away uneasily at that, and Tony's acutely reminded that this isn't the Bruce that's come to terms with the two halves of himself. These aren't the people he's shared rocky years with, pushed together and split together and cutting each other on their edges. A wave of loss comes over him, sudden and overwhelming, for everyone and everything he'll never see again.

"Let me talk to Loki," he continues when no-one else says anything, tearing his mind away from the future-that-will-never-be. "I bet I could get something out of him—I'm pretty convincing when I want to be."

"Really? Is that why he threw you out of a window?" Fury replies, unimpressed.

Of all the things to bring up, Fury just had to bring up this. Tony fully embraces the bristling offence that rises up in him at this, pushing aching grief to the edges of his mind. "You can't seriously be holding that against me—we had a good chat before that! How was I supposed to know that he would take offence at the mention of _performance issues_?"

Clint snorts explosively. "Probably has problems getting some. Who'd get it on with _him?_ "

The air in the room suddenly turns stiflingly thick, near crackling with static. Thor leaps to his feet indignantly, sending his chair clattering backward. His gaze darkens as he whips his head around to glare at Clint. "You dare insulting my brother's capabilities?"

"Pfft, what's there to insult? He clearly doesn't—"

"Come on, Fury," Tony hastily interrupts before things escalate even further, valiantly resisting the urge to smirk at the growing conflict, "You know as well as I do that it would change everything."

There's another moment of silence as Fury shuffles some of the invasion reports in his hand, punctuated by the tense stare off between a defiant Clint and a still fiercely protective Thor _._ Tony watches, highly entertained. Part of him wonders if his accidental comment will cause the friendly camaraderie between the two to form differently this time.

Bruce seems to realise he's just about the only sane one in the room, and pointedly glances at the knocked over chair on the floor, and then at Thor. Thor looks suitably chastised, and after one more dark look in Clint's direction, rights his chair and grudgingly sits down again.

Finally, Fury speaks, sounding deeply aggrieved. " _F_ _ine._ Fine! We'll do it your way just this once, Stark—"

 _"Yes!"_ Tony whispers, flashing a bright grin in the Director's direction, which only seems to sour his mood further.

"—I'll authorise your visit. But if anything happens…"

"I know, I know. It's all on me. Don't worry, nothing is going to happen. You can take all the precautions your good old super-spy paranoia wants you to take."

 _The enemy of my enemy is my friend_ , people have said, time and time again. He supposes it's his turn to test how true that is.

The rest of the meeting passes by in a somewhat monotonous blur of going through every detail of the invasion again, discussing the logistics of rebuilding, and where the Avengers are going to go from here.

"We could build a new facility for the Avengers," Tony proposes, testing out an old idea. "I can revamp one of the SI abandoned buildings, turn it into something nice and high-tech…"

Clint looks interested. "You'd include an archery range, yeah? And all that top-notch equipment that's coming out nowadays?"

"Hell yeah I would. Specialised training rooms, custom arrowheads, you name it, I got it." Tony's gaze skitters across the others. "Wouldn't skimp out on the rest of it, either. Cutting-edge scientific equipment for the labs we'll obviously need, biomedical and mechanical and otherwise, all the best punching bags and gyms for the good old Cap here, whatever dagger poison stabby things you need, Natashlie. I'll even throw in a lightning rod or two for you, Point Break. We could test your lightning output and your fancy hammer, or something."

Now Clint _definitely_ looks interested. Everyone else is too, at least a little bit, he thinks, and mentally fist pumps in success. On the other hand, Fury looks like he's bitten an extremely sour lemon, which indicates he's just about reached his limit for Wild Tony Stark Ideas for the day. Tony just _knows_ nothing else from him is getting approved today.

The conversation moves on to less serious topics and Tony rapidly loses interest, opening his Starkphone and idly browsing the web for a refresher on how the public views the Avengers so far. It's mostly positive with the occasional negative comment, but that's to be expected. 

_Finally,_ after what seems like ten thousand boring years, Fury briskly stacks up the invasion reports into a neat pile. "Alright, that's all for today. Everyone, out. Stark, come back tomorrow if you still want to talk to Loki."

Tony stands up and stretches languorously. "What? Why not now?"

"Despite what you seem to think, it's not easy to arrange a meeting between a civilian and a high-profile criminal, Iron Man or not."

"What's the point of being Director of SHIELD if you can't speed up these things?" Tony complains, shoving his phone back into his pocket and sidling out of the room. He thinks it's bullshit that he's still classified as a 'civilian' despite doing more than his fair share of fighting throughout the years. In his highly-reliable opinion, the guy is just prolonging things so that SHIELD can get their act together.

* * *

In the meantime, however, Tony doesn't really have anything urgent to do. He shuts himself back in his lab again, deciding to go through all the major technological updates that have happened in ten years. Suit upgrades, equipment upgrades, there's a hell of a lot of things to get done.

"J, bring up all the unfinished schematics I've been working on this year—Iron Man suits first, and then the others. We can talk about the future while I work."

_"Looking forward to it, Sir."_

Holographic screens blink into being, endless data and code scrolling across them that few in the world would understand. Blue lines spell out designs for weapons, tools, arc reactor improvements, numerous unfinished projects, and Tony smiles. Everything might never be the same again, but this?

Working alongside JARVIS in his workshop, the future unfolding before them with every plotted point and calculated decision?

He knows the fate of the world balances on a knife-thin edge, that ominous danger creeps closer with every tick of the clock and husked out world, but here—

At the very beginning of things, with the chance to change it all—

(Having lost it all first, gained and lost and now, started afresh—)

It feels almost worth it. 

* * *

Tony lets out a breath. “Okay, JARVIS, remember to hit the cameras," he mutters quietly. "Anything incriminating, you splice it right outta there, okay?”

 _“Of course, Sir. Though this does not seem to be the most cautious plan of action,"_ JARVIS comments through his Starkphone.

“Yeah, well. You know what they say. No risk, no reward. Let’s go.” 

There might have been a sarcastic _I doubt that was meant to apply to gods and supernatural events_ from JARVIS, but he chooses not to reply. As he enters the utilitarian SHIELD facility, Fury falls into step next to him.

"Remember, call out if you need help or walk out if you want to leave. We've got cameras in the room, people watching his every move, so there's no need to be overly reckless. This is dangerous enough already, and I don't need a dead Tony Stark on my hands."

"Be safe, stay calm, etcetera. Gotcha."

Fury continues like he hadn't heard him. "We've removed his muzzle just for this hour, which Thor has said should be acceptable with the ambient restraining magic in the holding cell, but for god's sake, restrain your mouth for once in your life, Stark. The Avengers are stationed throughout the facility ready to combat Loki, but that's not an express invitation to provoke the captive god."

Tony makes a show of nodding along obediently. "Got it. Wouldn't want our resident Hulk to pulverise Blitzen if he got free this time."

They reach a deceptively plain-looking locked door, all that stands between him and a captured Loki. With a harried breath, Fury swipes his ID card across the blinking scanner and enters a passcode with lightning-quick speed. He fixes Tony with a deadly serious gaze as the door begins to slide open. "Don't you dare pull any funny business."

Tony would find Fury's extreme caution hilarious in other circumstances, but right now, Fury's concern sends a shiver of apprehension down his spine. Suddenly, he remembers the vicious, sharp-edged Loki from the Chitauri invasion, the breathless terror at being thrown off a building more than fifty stories high. But this is too important to back out now, so he squares his shoulders and plasters on his best _I'm-ready_ smile. "Send me in."

The first thing he notices when he steps in is Loki. The god has been chained to a chair in the middle of the room. He still has his hands cuffed together, but the muzzle has been removed. "Ah. It's the mechanic, come to grace me with his illustrious presence," Loki smirks, eyes cold with detached amusement. "Did they tire of sending useless fools to interrogate me?"

"I'm not classified as a useless fool? I feel so honoured," Tony shoots back, but mentally files that little fact. Fury didn't mention that before. "I'd like to think of this as less of an interrogation and more just little ol' me here to ask you a few questions."

"Oh?" Loki raises an elegant eyebrow, his smirk taking on a mocking edge. "And what makes you think I'll answer them, mortal?"

"Because, for one, I'm smarter than those _useless fools_ , as you call them. You weren't really the one directing the invasion, were you, Reindeer Games?" Tony smiles, and there's nothing soft about it. "Placing the wormhole right on top of my tower? Going on and on about your plans like a common supervillain? That made no sense. At first I thought you were just flashy. A showman. I could get behind that. But then why give us so much time to prepare, reassemble? You _dragged_ us together by killing Coulson—forced the Avengers to team up against a common enemy."

Urged on by Loki's silence and burning stare, Tony continues. "I think that if you really wanted to—if you were really trying—you could've taken over this little planet. Not easily, mind you—us humans are a lot more stubborn that most—but you and your magic could've managed it. But you didn't. You come to Earth looking worse than you are now, with that farce of an invasion, and something doesn't add up.

"That army of yours didn't come out of nowhere. What are you running from? Who's pulling your strings?"

Tony finishes slightly out of breath, panting slightly. Because he knows, _knows,_ feels the pieces click into place one by one, that it's Thanos. No other option makes sense.

"Funny," Loki laughs bitterly, voice poisonous with burning resentment, "How a mere mortal could see my actions were not wholly my own, when my self-proclaimed brother of several millennia could not."

No names, but no denial. "Stop avoiding the question," Tony snaps on auto-pilot, "Who was it?"

Loki is calm, composed, but there's a storm of emotion in his eyes. Tony waits, and soon, he seems to settle on a decision. Tony's sure that means nothing good for him.

"Someone you would never want to meet," Loki's lips twist in remembrance. "He courts death as if it were a lady, offers up destroyed worlds to his false goddess. A true madman, that seeks the bright stars of power in the universe."

Practically a blaring confirmation. "I take it he wasn't a kind host, was he."

Loki's sardonic stare says _no shit, dude,_ with a side helping of _never again_. There's something brittle in his gaze, a hunted gauntness that still clings to his sharp features.

Tony recognises that look, because he saw it in the mirror every day for months after Afghanistan. And with a flash of almost-sympathy, he realises that this situation, while on a much grander scale, is something he knows all too well. When you're in a desperate situation, you do everything you can to stay alive, whether it be a pile of tin welded together to make a flimsy suit of armour or snappy retorts and stubborn defiance to keep your sanity, and apparently in Loki's case—an invasion onto a planet just a rainbow bridge away from home.

"Your actions here on Earth," Tony says, and it's not a question. "The Tesseract. You drew him here, didn't you?"

"An astute conclusion."

Tony wants to throw his hands up in the air and scream _'why, for gods sake!'_ in disbelief and indignation, but he already knows why. A desperate escape. Tricks in tricks. It shakes him to the core, that Thanos' plans had begun this early. How much time would they have had to prepare for the Mad Titan the first time around, if he had just _seen_ the way he was seeing now?

It feels hollow, that this revelation, this second chance, comes in the wake of a thousand mistakes and a barely-there victory.

( _"My brother... I know not if he was too weakened by our battle or did so of his own free will, but he let go," Thor mutters, eyes shadowed. "It was a terrible night—The Bifrost was broken, its energy streaming into the cosmos, and my brother was fallen into the void, gone from us."_

_He takes another long draught of potent tequila straight from the bottle, and alcohol dulls the spark in his eyes, loosening his tongue. Tony swallows roughly, not knowing what to say. Out of all the Avengers, he's the only one willing to listen to tales about Loki and Asgard, even if only grudgingly, and with a lot of light jibes at Thor's expense. But this—a story about a family falling apart at the seams, a father's approval never given—it rings a bit too close to home._

_"In truth, that was the night I began to realise my faults. Through my thoughtless actions through the centuries, my folly, my unwillingness to see... I was the one who pushed Loki to such extremes. Before he arrived on Midgard, I believed him dead. I thought we would never resolve things between us. I know Loki has done a great deal of a harm to your realm, Anthony, but he was not always like this. It is a dear hope of mine that the brother from my childhood, with his mischievous tricks and clever hands, will return."_

_It's been nearly a full year since the Chitauri attack, but the fever-bright madness in Loki's eyes and the storm of violence in his every movement are still fresh in Tony's mind. Not to mention, he knows better than most how family trauma can dig into your very bones, change your whole life. Privately, he doubts Thor will ever get his wish._

_"That's a noble goal," he tactfully chooses to say instead, clapping Thor on the shoulder in a moment of solidarity. "I wish you the best of luck, big guy."_

_For a split second, Tony remembers the incongruities of the invasion. Remembers a flash of sharp green and a too-easy capture, and for a moment, doubts._

_But the endless void and shadowy army of nameless monsters push insistently at his mind, and he brushes away the stray thought. No matter what Thor said about his little brother, Tony would never forget what he did to New York.)_

_God_ , why didn't he _listen to himself?_ Why was he always too late?

He comes back to the present in an instant, and pulls himself together with half a breath. "Why are you telling me so much?" He asks, instead of all the other things that want to come clawing out of his throat. "Apparently you gave Fury nothing. It really pissed him off, you know."

"That ant and his insignificant lackeys? Why would I give them anything?" Loki sniffs disdainfully, and Tony just knowsNicky-boy is probably spitting with rage while watching the camera monitor. "But _you_ ," and here he leans forward slightly, eyes sparking with cold curiosity, "You _interest_ me, mortal starsmith."

Tony shivers. _Starsmith._ He's never heard that one before.

"Oookay..." he says slowly, "I have no idea what that means, Dasher, but I'm glad you approve of my meagre mortal existence. Can we get back to the madman gunning straight for Earth?"

Loki shrugs lightly, but there's something anxious in the tilt of his shoulders. "He is not 'gunning for it', as you say. He will come, inevitable as death, but it will take him several years to traverse the galaxy. Perhaps even several decades, if you humans can manage to stay still for that long."

"But he's still gonna get here sometime."

"In essence, yes."

"So what are we going to do about it?" Tony demands, plonking himself right in front of the god. Simultaneously, his fingers just happens to brush against the Starkphone in his pocket, sending a brief heat signal to JARVIS.

" _W_ _e,_ Stark?"

"Well, I certainly don't want an insane alien obsessed with death taking over Earth, and you don't seem too fond of him either—" Loki's posture suggests that this is a _massive understatement,_ "So how about a team-up?"

"A 'team-up'." Loki says flatly, pronouncing the word like it's something distasteful. But it's not a rejection.

Loki looks like he severely doubts Tony's sanity, and also his ability to damage a purple titan who has ended worlds. Having met Thanos, Tony can't blame him, but being the one who finally took him down, he's also extremely offended by Loki's doubt.

"Well, yeah! It's the obvious solution. With your magic and my brains, and a slew of _ants_ as you like to call us, I bet we could get rid of that guy easy."

"You would trust me to be on your side? I, who just attacked your mortal city?"

"There's something they say here on Earth," Tony explains, "The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I mean, obviously I wouldn't trust you _straight away_ , that's just asking to be backstabbed, but I'll give you an honest chance. You in?"

Loki seems reluctantly interested, eyes calculating. "How would we perform such a 'team-up', as you say?"

"I mean, it would start with you not being in Asgardian jail, for one," Tony rubs his hands together gleefully, fully prepared to concoct a diabolical plan, "So I was thinking, I go talk to Thor about your innocence, give him the evidence, you talk to your—sorry, not yours, Thor's—father, and then..."

* * *

Get a new potential ally on his side, and eliminate the problem of the Sceptre and shady organisations studying it. Tony studies the timeline edged in blue, the future of infinite possibility sprawling out before him if he plays his cards right, and nods decisively. 

Later, he watches from the side as Thor calls out to Heimdall, Loki clapped in chains and both of them surrounded by SHIELD personnel. Loki inclines his head ever so slightly to Tony, smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, and Tony holds his gaze.

_Until we meet again._

When a blast of Bifrost magic comes crashing down on Thor and Loki, whisking them off to Asgard, it is not one Infinity Stone that Thor leaves with, but two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter! way too long this time, with so so much talking. also, tony makes his first major change of the day, and it's not even that surprising of a change.

**Author's Note:**

> wheew. I have no idea what I'm doing, this is my first long-fic, there's no plot or organisation or anything so don't expect anything brilliant ahaha. 
> 
> Leave a comment and kudos if you liked!


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